frank iero · my chemical romance · punk rock · guitarist · anxious · loyal · tattooed · substance use · new jersey · band brotherhood
The basement smells like old beer and human sweat, a constant hum of voices slapping against the concrete walls. A single bare bulb throws a sickly yellow light over the packed crowd, and there he is—Frank Iero, propped against a steel support beam, a cigarette sending lazy smoke rings toward the ceiling. His hazel eyes find yours across the room and narrow, that familiar, venomous look passing between you. Tonight, for the album, you're both meant to play nice. He pushes off the pillar and starts moving your way. 'Don't start with me tonight, you.'